Wanna bet?
by RochelleRene
Summary: Season 3 clinic hours bet from "One Day One Room"... with a twist.


**This is set during "One Day One Room" in season 3. Before it got to be a pretty serious episode, Cuddy had made a bet with House in which she had to pay him $10 for every clinic patient he diagnosed without touching, and he paid her when he had to touch them. I changed the bet for this fic… Enjoy. **

"Let's make this more interesting for you. For every patient you don't have to touch, you get to touch me."

House paused his arguing, a slight upward tug at the corners of his mouth.

Cuddy stepped a little closer. "Your hand only. One part of me."

He wanted to attack her right there, but held steady.

"You pay me ten dollars for every patient you have to touch."

"If you want me to touch you, Cuddy, you can just ask."

"I don't want you to touch me, House. I want you to do your job." But she bit her lip for a moment before sticking her chin out defiantly.

"You're valuing getting to touch you at a worth of ten dollars."

"I'm motivating you," she emphasized. "And you're right. Twenty."

"How long do I get to touch?"

Cuddy looked at him, considering. "Long as you want. Just one hand, one part."

"Sounds like a recipe for you to get off while I get frustrated."

"If you don't wanna get me off and get frustrated," she replied, "I'll think of something else. Cafeteria gift cards?"

She stuck out her hand to shake. "One hand, one part," House clarified. He shook.

"When do we settle up?" he asked.

"After your shift," she said, walking back to her desk as if this were any normal business. She paused though, thinking things through."Privately, House. No public groping."

"Can I publicly pay you?" he asked, smirking.

"Go to work, Doctor." She said, lifting a pen.

House stopped at the door and turned back to her. "Just hands?"

Cuddy continued writing. "I've been known to double down." She didn't look back up.

House walked out to the clinic smiling ear to ear.

[H] [H] [H]

House saw ten patients in a row without touching them. He barely diagnosed them, being as distracted as he was by the fifth, sixth, seventh way he was going to touch Cuddy. When he had one particularly beautiful patient, he weighed his options. She was hot, but the odds of full on sex were much lower and the odds of a lawsuit higher.

Plus Cuddy was hotter.

"I'm at ten," he said, sidling up behind her at the nurses' station to drop off some files. "And I owe you zilch."

Cuddy turned around so they were facing each other and he felt her breath on his ear when she whispered, "Ten? Keep this up you'll be forced to start repeating body parts." She sauntered off.

Something about how she said the word "repeating." He needed a pit stop in the men's room. He ran into Wilson and told him about the bet.

"You're lying."

House gave a cocky shake of his head as he dried his hands. "'Fraid not, my workaholic friend. Turns out the grasshopper does just fine cuz the queen of the ants has the hots for him."

"Or she pretends to to get the grasshopper to shut up and start working," Wilson replied. "She's joking."

"She's jonesin'."

"Be careful, House."

"Oh, relax. It's just a game."

"That's not true, for either of you. And you know it. Stop betting sexual favors and just tell her you love her already."

House felt a little taken aback at Wilson's casual assessment of his feelings for Cuddy. Was he that obvious? But he didn't let on. "I shouldn't have told you," he pouted. "Fun police."

"The game is not just a game, House. You two both spent the better part of your development focused solely on catalyzing your respective intellectual genius. You're both, therefore, emotionally and socially stunted."

"I'm so telling Cuddy you said that," House told him, sticking his tongue out as he exited the men's room.

[H] [H] [H]

House walked into Cuddy's office after his shift. She sat back in her chair and grinned at him, propping her legs on the desk.

He dropped onto her cushy couch. "I owe you forty bucks," he said, teasing. She gave him a quizzical look. "Head lice and a broken arm." Cuddy nodded. "You owe me sixteen."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Sixteen?"

"Sixteen."

"With the forty, that makes eighteen patients in four hours," she calculated. "That's a record, House."

"I'm a man on a mission."

Cuddy stood and walked over to her office door, turning the lock. She sat down next to him on the couch, an inch of space between them.

House immediately planted a hand on her far thigh, exhaling heavily as he slid his palm slowly from the top of her thigh to the inside, under her skirt, fingers splayed to touch as much of her at once as was physically possible. Cuddy kept her hands at her sides and tried to come off nonchalant, but the feeling of his hand, so aggressively moving from inside her thigh over the top again to the spot where it met her hip, well, she couldn't help the slight tremble that ran through her body. She closed her eyes and her head sank back against the couch.

She heard him turn his head to face her. "Long as I want?" he asked with a low grumble, continuing to move his hand leisurely along her thigh.

Cuddy tried to inhale slowly but it sounded like a gasp anyway. "That was the deal," she said coolly.

He slid his hand between her thigh and the couch, pulling upward so that her leg lifted and her skirt rode up with it. She braced her foot on the coffee table. He stopped his hand at the inside again, froze for a second, then he ran his thumb so carefully back and forth, just grazing her pantyline.

"This is still just your thigh, right?" he murmured. "I don't wanna get disqualified. She felt the vibrations of his nail running along the fabric of her panties.

"You're toeing the line," she assured him. He pushed against her then, spreading her legs apart and running his hand down the length of her again. "I didn't think this through," she said aloud.

"Clearly," he said. "You've forgotten that I'm a hedonist. I could do this all night."

Cuddy laughed a breathless laugh.

"Remember that night I did this all night?"

Cuddy whimpered a breathless whimper.

"Alright, it's your lucky day, House," she stammered. She swallowed hard, trying to collect herself, but his breath was still so close, and his hand was exploring every inch of her thigh. "You can cash in two at once. Two hands, two parts." She said it like she was doing _him _the favor.

"That's very considerate of you, Cuddy," he replied. "I'll take you up on it." Then his hand abruptly disappeared and she opened her eyes to see him standing, retrieving his cane, and walking to the door.

"What are you doing?"

"That was one," he clarified, looking back at her with a serious expression.

Cuddy shook her head, looking thoroughly confused.

"I'm gonna let my balance ride a while," he explained. "Cash in later."

"House, that was not the deal," Cuddy said, getting nervous. She didn't like him getting control of this situation.

"The deal was 'after my shift'" he reminded her with a smirk, "and privately." He unlocked the door. "From here on out everything is 'after my shift,' he explained. "And I know all about your privates."

He walked out the door leaving a thoroughly hot and bothered Cuddy practically panting on the couch. She laid her hand where his had been, her brain fighting between composing itself and wanting to pretend the interruption never happened.

Suddenly there was his stupid head again, poking around the door. "So I'm at fifteen, right?"

She gave him a disgusted look and nodded.

He met her eyes. "And that was just one…"

She bit her lip to stop her smile, but he saw it anyway.

"Dumb luck." And he was gone again.

[H] [H] [H]

The next days were deliciously torturous. Hours would go by with the most normal dynamic between them, but suddenly House would decide to "cash in a chip" and leave her wet and flushed to return the day's business.

Once he was already sneakily in her office and when she went in and bent to file something, she felt his hand on the small of her back. She startled, then sighed. He untucked her top so that skin met skin and spent a good ten minutes rubbing her back as she bent over the file cabinet. He pushed deep into her muscles, easing tension while creating a different sort. She was groaning a little with the feeling, getting lost. Then he hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties, pulled back and snapped them. Cuddy yelped a little and he was gone.

Another time, he called her into a clinic room for a "consult" which turned into her leaning against the clinic door, his mouth inches from hers while his hand slid under her shirt and bra, cupping her breast and expertly touching her nipple until she was practically begging him to use another credit for her other side. He was kind enough not to make her ask. She was kind enough not to chide him for cheating when she felt his pelvis against hers, his arousal pressing against her so aggressively that he made her leave the room first so he could settle down. She didn't know if it was purely his hands or the fucking game, but she'd nearly come, fully clothed, leaning against that door.

Then later that day he slid into her car next to her when she was leaving. She turned toward him, ready to scold him that this was not private enough, when his thumb touched her bottom lip. He said nothing. She looked at his wide blue eyes as he stared at her face, studying it. He traced her mouth with each of his fingers, tickling the tips of her Cupid's bow. By the time his thumb returned and paused in the center of her bottom lip, she was so overcome she stuck her tongue out a bit to lick the pad of his thumb.

House clicked his tongue. "A bet's a bet, Cuddy." He opened the door and slid out.

This continued until he had one touch left. Then they went days. Three long, tortuous days without a touch. He wasn't even referencing them anymore. She was frustrated sexually, and even more so egotistically. She was mad that this had turned into her wanting him. But who was she kidding. It had been that from the start. She'd gotten the idea out on the picnic tables in the running park. Seeing him outside of the hospital walls, bundled against the brisk fall air that so resembled that Michigan football Saturday… The quiet heat of their attraction had boiled over in her then and she'd been rash and uninhibited, flying into his web. And now she was stuck. She fought and only got further tangled.

[H] [H] [H]

She was thinking this over and lying in bed touching herself while she thought about him for the sixth night in a row, replaying each encounter of the week with a different ending that did not involve keeping score. She was teetering on the edge when she heard the knock on her door. She froze and smiled at the ceiling.

Cuddy didn't even bother with a robe before walking to the door."House," she said matter-of-factly as she swung the door open.

"Cuddy," he replied. There was a beat of silence as he unabashedly took her in, head to toe. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Sleep."

"You look a little flushed. And I can see your pulse in your neck. Must have been some dream."

"Don't remember."

"No? Cuddy, you look positively orgasmic. I'm curious if I knocked before or after things were getting really good."

"What do you want, House?" She could want him, with her entire body, and still be annoyed as hell with him.

"I want to settle up. I believe I have one touch left."

Cuddy pursed her lips. "It's very considerate of you to wait until I'm sleeping," she sniped.

House stepped forward, into the entryway. He leaned closer to her.

"We both know you weren't sleeping, Cuddy."

She glared at him. "How do you propose to know that?"

"Because I wasn't sleeping." He wasn't touching her at all, but the heat between them was palpable and Cuddy kept slowly stepping back a little until she was against the wall.

"You don't need sleep," she pointed out. "You get all the naps you want during clinic hours."

House smiled. "You think you know what I need?"

"House, look. A bet's a bet. And I bit off more than I could chew. So let's just get it over with."

"Great. Good. I'll hurry up and touch you. Then you can go back to bed and touch yourself."

Cuddy's breath caught a little. She couldn't think of what to say.

House rested his forearms on either side of her, leaning into her, but still not touching. "What do you think about, Cuddy?" he asked in a low voice. "What gets your pupils dilated like this?" He glanced down. "What gets your collarbone all sweaty?"

"The usual," she said, still defiant. "Clive Owen doing my dishes." He grinned, licked his lips.

"Sounds hot." She grinned back. He dropped a hand and played with the hem of her nightgown. She felt the fabric rustle over her skin. "I was thinking about you," he said conspiratorially. Cuddy exhaled and couldn't seem to breathe if she fully closed her mouth.

"House, as fun as it is to swap masturbatory fantasies with you," she sighed, trying to steady her breath, "Can we just get your touching over with?"

He ignored her. He was so close she felt him move her hair with his nose a little. "I thought about you before. I considered skipping it and just coming over then," he explained.

Cuddy felt her knees getting shaky.

"Then during, I considered the many ways I could use my last touch," he murmured in her ear. Cuddy actually whimpered a little. "And where each one might lead," he added. He moved close and his jacket was against her. She could feel it through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

"Then after, when I was just lying there. And it wasn't enough." He was looking in her eyes now with an expression that somehow blended earnestness and lust. "And I needed to see you."

"Okay… well…" Cuddy swallowed. She was speechless and horny and completely brain dead.

"Where did I touch you, Cuddy?" She looked at him confused. "Right before I knocked, where was I touching you?" Cuddy looked down, embarrassed. "I'll touch you wherever you want. Just tell me."

"House," she was overwhelmed. She felt defiant, yet bashful; so flippin' turned on, yet irritated with him. "You should go." It was ridiculous. Even the tone was empty of any kind of assertiveness.

"Okay," he agreed, worrying her. But his hand slid up her nightgown and splayed across her stomach. His fingers traced the line of her ribcage. His thumb traced her bellybutton. He ran his palm down either side of her waist. He groaned a little and she thought she might lose it. They stood there for five minutes, both breathing heavily as he caressed her midsection. Cuddy had to fight the urges to buck up against his body.

He took his hand away and straightened up. He looked at her. "That's not where you were touching me," she finally confessed.

"That's not where I wanted to touch you."

"Then, why there?"

"I don't wanna get you with a bet," he told her. "I wanna earn you." He was still aroused as hell and his mouth was open a little and his eyes had a glassy look to them. He turned and started to walk out the door.

"Don't go," she said, trying not to sound too desperate.

He shrugged as if helpless. "Bet's over. Gotta go home and touch something else."

"New bet," Cuddy announced. "You get to touch me once for every time I touch you."

House smiled. He looked her head to toe again. "Judging by your shifting legs and erect nipples, I'm liking my odds." She stepped forward, laid her hand on his cheek. He put a hand on her ass and pulled her against him. Their noses touched. Her fingers were hooked in the waist of his jeans and his hand was sliding around to slip between her legs, but each dared the other to kiss first.

House shrugged out of his jacket, let it fall to the floor. He stepped forward and kicked the door shut behind him. They crazily walked toward the bedroom, kicking off shoes, slipping off nightgowns, and generally molesting each other, faces locked close, but inactive. In the bedroom a now-naked Cuddy had her legs wrapped around a half-naked House and he stopped at the edge of the bed. His bottom lip touched her bottom lip.

"I'm never going to kiss you first, House," she whispered.

"I'm never going to kiss you until you tell me to," he whispered back.

"All this time, that's all it took?" Cuddy chuckled. "Here I was orchestrating ridiculous bets." House smirked.

"Thought you wanted me to get some humanity."

Cuddy sighed, laughing again. "Like that'll ever happen… I just wanted you." He smiled broadly, a rare sight. He laid her on the bed and pressed himself on top of her. "Kiss me, misanthrope."

And he did. His mouth opened a little and closed over her top lip. He tasted her slowly, like he was memorizing it. But as his tongue slipped into her mouth it got more intense. He kissed her deeply, holding her face in his hands. Cuddy ran her hands lightly down the length of his back, then pushed hard into his muscles as she slid her hands back up. House rolled then and brought her with him. Her legs flanked his and he wriggled out of his boxers as they kissed more. His hands were everywhere now, roaming her body freely. "I'm not keeping track," he murmured into her mouth. "Am I getting ahead of you?"

"It's okay, I'll owe you," she said, sitting up to straddle him properly. They sat on the edge of a ridiculously random technicality, hesitating because it meant something. Games were one thing. Love was another. Both, well, that was bliss.

"I kissed you first," House reminded her. Cuddy smiled and shifted so that she moved down on him, marking the act as consensual and real. Her hands lay on his belly and his found her hips and they began moving in rhythm. House stared at her naked body riding his and was glad he hadn't been lying about his earlier satisfying of urges. The vision of her biting her lip, closing her eyes, her breasts moving with their pace… He'd have been forced to think about diseases and drug interactions instead of enjoying this vision of feminine perfection enjoying him.

Cuddy felt like she was finally getting to scratch a week-long itch. He filled her in inimitable ways and she saw why her fantasizing had done nothing to ease her desire for him. She looked down at his blue eyes, staring at her while she whimpered his name. She felt close to falling so fast, but he slowed her, pressing downward on her hips. She knit her brows and her lip pouted a little. Frustrated Cuddy. "You know you make the same face when you want me to make you come as when you want me to leave your office?" he pointed out.

She smiled. "That's because you always have to be defiant, you ass. Staying when I say leave. Leaving when I say come." She grabbed his hands off her hips and pushed them down on the bed above his head. She leaned down and he let her pretend she was able to pin him because the feeling of her breasts against his chest while she ground against him was pretty much a narcotic. He felt her ecstatic waves around him, her breath puffing across his chin, her little cries bouncing off the walls of the bedroom. Her thighs squeezed the sides of him and she moaned a long, luxurious moan as she slid down the other side of her orgasm.

She lay there panting, her hands still ridiculously wrapped around his wrists until he moved to close his arms around her, sliding his hands over her even-more-perfect-than-he-imagined ass. "It's really a work of art," he told her.

She laughed into his neck. "Always been the way to your heart," she recalled. "Or into your pants anyway."

"Just yours," he underscored. "I'd do just about anything for your ass." Cuddy pushed up and looked down at him, eyebrows raised. She pushed her pelvis against his again, feeling his frustration. "Really? Anything?"

He rued his foolish words. And rejoiced too. "Another game," he groaned.

She sat up on her knees and got off of him, turning to give him a perfect view of her ass. She smiled at him over her shoulder, patting her own ass. "How many clinic hours is it worth to you, House?"

He smiled. "Does the not touching patients bet still stand?"

"A game within the game," Cuddy observed.

"This is a tangled web."

She shook her rear goofily. "Bet stands. How many, House?"

He sat up and came up behind her, his hands resting on the sides of her ass. "Hmmm, well fucking you is worth, eh, let's say twenty hours a romp."

Cuddy glared at him. "Only twenty?"

"Cuddy, though I would love unlimited access to your perfect genitals, do you know many nasty genitals I encounter per clinic hour? More than twenty and I might be too scarred to reap my rewards."

She laughed. "Fair enough."

"And getting to stare at your ass... well, that's another ten at least." He explained. "So do I simply add them? Thirty clinic hours per doggy style?" He rubbed up against her and pushed her down a little, so that she fell into the named position.

Cuddy was laughing and aroused. "Seems reasonable," she gasped.

"You're such a clinic hours whore," he teased.

"You're so good at dirty talk."

He pushed inside of her and they both moaned. He closed his eyes and just basked in the feeling for a while. Then Cuddy fell to her elbows, changing the angle a little. Damn. He hadn't been kidding. He just stared at her ass. It was all round and smooth and perky. It was worth the extra ten that she wouldn't make him actually work. He reached around her body and touched her until she was so overcome no sound was actually coming out her mouth anymore. When her hands clenched sheets he was done for and finally got to come with the same woman he was thinking about.

They writhed and rocked and said crazy things until the release left them spent and delighted. They they lay there, sweaty, tangled, and satisfied. House rolled off of her, but found her hand with his as they sprawled across the bed. "Wilson says we're emotionally stunted," he informed her.

"Wilson's a douchebag," she muttered into the pillow.

House smiled broadly at the ceiling.

"I think I love you."


End file.
